Chapter Four
I had no choice but to trust my very capable friend. Eric, in his uncharacteristic mood, all but shoved Jorge and me into his car, demanded my cell phone, and made a quick call I paid no attention to. I had more important things to do -- like figure out how to save my horse.
On the short trip to my house I tested and rejected a thousand plans. Hide him. Where? Run away. Impractical. A lawyer. Where do you find a lawyer to represent a horse? Delores will have ideas. So will Uncle Henry -- and you can depend on him and Aunt Vi. They're right here in town, not ten minutes away, like Delores. They'll help you figure out what to do next. Blackie didn't kill Valerie.
The car slowed to a stop and Eric turned off the engine, distracting me from my tactical planning. We were in front of my old, Craftsman style cottage, and behind Juliet's motorcycle, angle-parked at the curb. Eric's call had been to my sister. The front door of my house opened and Juliet stepped onto my porch. Her sober expression contrasted with the layers of brightly colored tops she wore. She chewed her bottom lip as she watched me approach.
"You okay?" she asked as we put our arms around each other. The breeze lifted her long, golden-brown curls, and a few fragrant strands dropped across my face.
"Yeah." I hugged her tightly.
She released me, gave Jorge a quick hug, then moved to Eric. Her stiletto heeled boots put her close to his six-foot-plus height. His arms slid around her and one hand gathered her hair in a tight fist as he pressed her, hard, against him. His eyes shut and the hair by Juliet's ear stirred with his breath before he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. I'd never seen Eric so emotional.
I headed into the house, away from the awkwardness of the moment. The smell of freshly brewed coffee beckoned me to the kitchen.
"Eric and I just got back from breakfast when Jorge called Delores," Juliet said as we all settled at the big kitchen table with our coffee. "Miguel told me Valerie took Blackie and now she's dead. What happened? How'd she die?"
My shoulders tightened. "I don't know, but I can tell you one thing for sure. Blackie didn't kill her like that idiot deputy thinks."
Juliet's gray eyes widened. She started to speak, but stopped. Her hands dropped to her lap.
Eric looked quickly at Juliet. "It's possible he kicked out of excitement when she turned him loose, and got her by accident." He reached for her hands.
"Do you really think that's what happened?" Juliet almost whispered her question -- to Eric.
"No, of course not," I snapped.
"I don't know." Eric leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. He let out a long breath before he continued. "Blackie usually hangs around the gate when you turn him out. That's your doing, Thea." He opened his eyes a slit and gave me a wry smile. "Blackie thinks everyone's his friend. I can't see him deliberately going after anyone."
"I'm sure Blackie didn't touch her," I said, unmoved by his attempt to soften his opinion. "Besides, I noticed something odd."
"Besides her being dead?" Jorge asked.
"I'm serious. Blackie didn't kill her, accidentally or otherwise. I'm sure of it. The gate was secured with the same chain and snap set-up as Copper Creek and Uncle Henry have. It was fastened on the outside of the fence, not the inside. Valerie would have fastened it on the inside if she was the last to close the gate."
"Not necessarily," Eric said. "Although I'll admit it would be easier."
"Oh, come on, Eric. If you were turning a horse out in a paddock would you take the trouble --"
"Did you tell the police?" Juliet asked.
"Yes, of course I did. He just told me to put it in my report." I took a big swig of coffee.
"I think the deputy just wanted to blame it on Blackie," Jorge said and drained his mug. "It's convenient."
At least Jorge backed me up. My arms relaxed a little. "I have to find a way to prove Blackie didn't kill Valerie. Otherwise they'll put him down." The silence pulled my attention up from the table top. Everyone looked as if they were holding their breath waiting for me to blow. I was under control. I wasn't crying or yelling. I was simply determined. I changed the subject. "Greg drove up right before we left Valerie's place."
"Oh no." Juliet grasped Eric's hand tightly in both of hers. "What happened?"
"It was awful. He was so upset. Two of the deputies tried to help him."
Juliet's lip trembled and she slid a quick look at Eric.
"I talked to him at Copper Creek earlier today before I knew Blackie was missing," I said. "He had flowers and a little Tiffany's box for Valerie."
Juliet jumped to her feet, grabbed the coffee pot and topped off everyone's mugs. She sniffed, but her hair hid her face from my view. I shook my head. Okay, it was sad, but it wasn't like Juliet to react like this. I poured a bit of creamer into my coffee and stirred it slowly. A cup of coffee in a crisis—the Northwest version of the British cup-of-tea-in-a-crisis. In fact, if we were across town in Aunt Vi and Uncle Henry's kitchen we would be drinking tea. Although they moved here to Snohomish when I was a kid, they maintained their English traditions. I guess we weren't so terribly removed from our roots -- just put our own spin on it.
"Anybody want lunch?" Juliet asked.
Eric's expression looked as sour as mine felt. Jorge was uncharacteristically unenthusiastic. Juliet sat.
A bit of sunshine found its way through the kitchen windows for a moment, and the white cabinet glowed crisp against the light blue walls. It was good to be home, and a relief to find Blackie, but the knot in my stomach would stay until I found a way to clear my horse.
Around the table, everyone had retreated into their own thoughts. For diversion, I opened Aunt Vi's copy of Fine Gardening Magazine I'd borrowed last week and counted the times the letter "e" appeared in the "Letter from the Editor" column.
The crash of my front door rocketing open sent my blood pressure spiking. Eric and Jorge leapt to their feet, chairs tipping wildly. Juliet jerked around to face the living room and froze, wide-eyed.
"Sorry!" Came Delores's raspy voice. "Where are you people?" The front door slammed shut.
Cripes. I let go of the lungful of air I'd hung on to for dear life.
"Kitchen," Juliet called, rolling her eyes and slumping back against her chair.
Eric and Jorge dropped into their chairs. Jorge groaned with relief.
"Oh good, coffee." Delores made for the coffee pot as she strode in.
"Is Blackie okay?" I tried not to insult her by sounding anxious. Her brief frown told me I hadn't quite pulled it off.
"Yes, he's fine." She took a mug out of the cabinet and poured what was left of the coffee into it. "What's for lunch? I'm getting a little wonky."
"I'll make some sandwiches." Juliet was on her feet and moving efficiently between the pantry and the fridge. I couldn't help but notice the liberal use she was making of the groceries I'd just bought. But she seemed glad for something to do, and at least wasn't packing them up to take home with her like she often did.
"Did you take Blackie back to Copper Creek?" I asked.
"No, the deputies decided it wouldn't be a good idea."
My heart stopped. "You didn't leave him there --"
"Settle down." Her steady look made me cringe. Of course she'd take care of my horse. "I took him over to your uncle's place. The deputies seemed to think that Henry might be able to handle him." She snorted a laugh.
I didn't have to ask whose idea that had been.
"Uncle Henry and Aunt Vi … you told them … are they …?"
"Upset? Of course. They'll be fine, though."
My heart made an effort to resume beating, but it was worried.
"Delores," Jorge said, "Thea noticed something interesting about the gate."
"Really?" She looked at me across the top of her coffee mug. "And you think it means Blackie didn't kill Valerie?"
"Yes, exactly. That was what I was trying to explain to that deputy."
A corner of her mouth twitched, and she took a swallow of coffee. I took t
he opportunity to explain what I believed the position of the latch on the gate meant. The explanation Marty wouldn't give me a chance to tell him.
Juliet brought the sandwiches to the table. Jorge eyed them and reached for one before she had a chance to set the plate down.
"Marty's not such a bad guy," Delores said, and raised an eyebrow at me. She picked up half a ham and cheese and took a bite. "Excellent rye bread. Purdy's bakery?"
"Uh huh." I frowned.
"So you decided Valerie was murdered?"
"I guess it would have to be murder," I said, almost apologetic. Why couldn't this be easy? Find Blackie, take him home, and live happily ever after. I looked around the table. I don't think I was the only one who had failed to make the leap from "Blackie couldn't have done it" to "murder." Jorge had stopped chewing, a deep crease was between Eric's eyebrows, and Juliet was gnawing on her lip.
"Couldn't it have been that someone was with her, saw the accident happen and went to get help?" Delores's suggestion was possible, but not very.
"No." I sat up straighter. "Let's assume it was an accident like you said, why didn't the person stay there and call from the house or the barn? Why leave? Someone killed her."
Delores took a swallow of coffee and looked around the table. "If that's the case, who would want to kill her? I'm sure none of us will miss her, but I can't imagine anyone wanting to do her in because she was an annoying snob." She took a bite of her sandwich, and chewed for a moment. Her gaze settled on me. "Unless she did something unforgivable."
"You think I killed her because she took my horse? How can you suggest such a thing?" I leaned toward her. "I didn't even know Blackie was missing until this morning. You know that." My index finger rapped the table punctuating each of my last three words. "Besides, Jorge was with me when I found her." I sat back, crossing my arms.
"I know." Delores put her mug down with a thump. "I don't think you'd hurt a fly, much less kill Valerie. What I'm saying is, if the sheriff decides she was murdered they're going to be looking at you pretty closely. You had plenty of reason to be angry with her, and they may think it's motive enough to arrest you. If I were you, I'd be reaching for the phone and giving that lawyer boyfriend of yours a call."
I combed my fingers through my hair. Twice. "I, uh, I kind of broke up with him last night. Sort of."
"Already? Holy mackerel, girl." She reached for another half sandwich.
What did she mean "already"? Was there a relationship expiration date I hadn't gotten to yet? "It's been a long time coming and last night was…not good." I glared at Juliet to remind her she let me down, but it was Eric who blushed. "Calling him wouldn't be a good idea."
"What happened?" Delores asked. "I thought you were meeting his parents in Seattle at some fancy restaurant."
"We had a disagreement."
"Must have been some disagreement," my oh-so-helpful little sister commented. "You were practically in tears when you phoned, but you wouldn't tell me anything. Just, 'drop what you're doing and come get me.'" She dropped her chin and stared at me.
I now knew why she hadn't come when she knew how upset I'd been, but I didn't ask because of how intently Eric was studying his coffee cup. I tried for evasive. "He embarrassed me."
"How bad could that have been?" Delores asked, finishing her ham and cheese.
"Bad enough that I don't feel comfortable calling him right now."
"I see." A little smile curved her lips and her eyebrows made tiny jerks up and down.
"No, you don't." I didn't know what it was she thought she saw, but now I felt compelled to explain my hasty departure from the Georgian Restaurant, Jonathan's parents and Jonathan. "If you must know, he got down on his knees with this God-awful monster of a ring and proposed. In front of everyone. The whole restaurant. He never even mentioned marriage before last night. I tried to make him stop, but he wouldn't listen. Then his father announced to everyone in earshot that I was a 'foolish young woman.' His mother yelled at his father to sit down, and I accidentally knocked over my chair and a couple of water glasses." I looked around at the faces of my so-called friends. Eric tried hard to look concerned, Jorge grinned, and Juliet … I could have smacked that highly-entertained, open-mouthed, bug-eyed look right off her face. "I had to leave." I raised my chin and shook back my bangs. "I went to McMurphy's Tavern and ran into Greg." A ripple of glances passed around the table. "What? It's a perfectly respectable place. No smoking, well lit, everybody I know goes there. In fact, Greg's got a condo in the neighborhood and … jeez, you guys! He told me his condo was a couple blocks away. I didn't see it. He was with Sarah Fuller -- you know her, Delores, she takes lessons --"
"I know who she is. I thought he was dating Valerie." Delores said.
"Sarah just picked him up at the airport. He was at a meeting in Chicago the last couple of days so there was probably some business he needed to talk to her about, since she works for him." I sniffed. People could be so dense. "Anyway, Juliet was supposed to pick me up," I shot her a skinny-eyed look, "but Paul Hudson came instead -- "
"Paul picked you up?" Delores's interruption and inflection showed genuine surprise. She gave Juliet an incomprehensible look.
"I was busy," Juliet said. A tiny, ate-the-canary smile settled on her lips.
Eric crossed his arms and slouched in his chair.
"Yes," I said to Delores, after a frown at Juliet. "He's Uncle Henry's new tenant."
"I know who Paul is." Delores scowled. "He's my nephew."
"Your nephew?"
"Yes."
There were little bobble-headed nods from the other well-informed individuals in the room. Jorge added a smirk as he finished his roast beef on rye. He was such a smart-ass sometimes.
"I didn't know."
"Really?"
"What?" I beseeched the ceiling. "How would I know?"
"He didn't mention it?" Delores asked.
"Why would he mention it to me? I just met him, and briefly, I might add, in Uncle Henry's driveway yesterday afternoon."
Juliet covered her eyes with a hand and turned away. Delores glanced at her.
What was the big deal? Was I supposed to know who all of Delores's relatives were? She had hundreds of them. Italian Catholics, most of them. Just say "no" to birth control.
"I'd have thought he'd say something," Delores said. "If he picked you up downtown and took you home then you spent a good hour in his car."
"He didn't take me home." I sighed at the ceiling. "He dropped me at the Snohomish airport where I left my car. Jonathan insisted on flying his plane to Boeing Field and his parents' driver picked us up. Anyway, I was kind of upset and didn't feel much like having an actual conversation last night."
"Oh, tell me you didn't cry." Juliet half laughed.
"Oh, give me some credit. I just gave him a brief run down of what happened so he wouldn't wonder why he was being so inconvenienced, thanks to you." It was her fault I'd subjected him to forty minutes of whiny monologue.
Delores snorted.
"What?" I drummed my nails on the table. "I called Juliet to come get me and she bailed. And how the hell am I supposed to know who all your thousands of relatives are?"
Delores shrugged. No one else commented. Or looked at me. Eric broke the uncomfortable silence.
"Since Blackie won't be at Copper Creek, how about I take some hay and grain over to Henry? Thea paid for it already anyway."
"Fine." Delores pushed her chair back and stood -- everyone's signal it was time to go. "Where's your car, Thea?"
"I'll bring it over," Eric said. "Sorry. I forgot it was still at Copper Creek."
I dug my keys out of my pocket, handed them to him, then followed everyone out the door.
"Are you angry with me?" I asked Delores as the others pulled away from the curb.
"No, Thea, I'm not angry with you." She smiled at me and patted my arm. "Things aren't going quite the way I expected, that's all."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing you need to worry about." She patted my arm again. All this patting made me think she was worried. "Why don't you go check on your horse when your car comes back? Henry and Vi want to see you. It would make them feel better if you would stop by and explain what happened."
"I will."
"Come get your equipment tomorrow. I expect you'll be keeping Blackie at the farm until November. Might as well. You'd be moving him there next month anyway."
Every spring I take Blackie to my aunt and uncle's. It's so much more convenient for Uncle Henry to do our dressage training at his farm. Blackie also enjoys the big pastures and companionship with Duke, Uncle Henry's horse. Then, in late fall, when it's dark early and begins to rain in earnest, I move Blackie back to Copper Creek. Uncle Henry's arena doesn't have a roof.
"I'm sorry for jumping on you in there." Delores gestured toward my house with a sideways nod.
"That's okay. It's been tough on everyone this morning." I started to turn away and a thought tugged at me. "Where did you find Blackie's halter? The leather one, not the nylon one I took from the truck." I remembered seeing it somewhere at Valerie's, but so much had gone on I couldn't be sure.
"It was on the ground outside the gate," she said.
"Hmm…."
"'Hmm' what?"
"I'm trying to imagine what would cause Valerie to drop the halter on the ground and go back into the paddock."
"Maybe she went in to toss him some hay," Delores said.
"With all that grass? You're right, though. It'd be like her to do that -- would have been like her." Valerie was past tense now.
"Wait a minute. That can't be right. When I put him in the stall I looked for hay so he'd have something to do. There wasn't any. What about the water tank -- where's that? Maybe she went back in to fill it."
"Next to the gate, I think. She could have filled it easily from outside the pasture."
She looked at me and frowned. "Looks like support for your tell-tale-gate theory. What about last night? You said you ran into Greg. Was Valerie with him?"
"No." I thought I'd mentioned Valerie's absence from McMurphy's. "I guess she was busy stealing my horse." Even I could hear how harsh that sounded. I bit my lip.
"Humph." She patted my shoulder once more. "Let me know if you need help lining up an attorney."
"I appreciate your looking out for me, but after we prove Blackie didn't kill Valerie there'll be no reason for anyone to involve me."
"I hope you're right."
I watched her drive off in her big truck and empty trailer, then wandered back toward the house. I hoped I was right, too.
As soon as Eric brought my car back I would go see Aunt Vi and Uncle Henry. They needed to hear, from me, all that happened this morning. This couldn't possibly get any more personal for them. Blackie was one of the last horses they bred at their farm. Valerie had been one of Uncle Henry's most successful students. She would have followed in his Olympic footsteps.
The wind gusted. I hunched my shoulders against it, but it seemed to whistle right through me. I felt small and desperate as I hurried back into the comfort of my house.